acceptable place before someone discovers their dumping sites.”
Luc turned from the door and stared out the big front window at the bayou. “At this point, I guess anything is possible, although, I have to say, she doesn’t really fit the profile of a criminal. And there was another incident today that might cause us some trouble.”
“What kind of incident?”
“Apparently, that mother-in-law of hers owned this preserve and leased it to the state. Well, you’ll never guess who she left it to.”
“Good grief, LeJeune, and you think this botanist is pure as the driven snow? How the hell did the mother-in-law die?”
Luc rubbed his jaw with one hand. “I don’t know exactly.”
“Well, you best be finding out. This all smacks of a cover-up, and your unassuming botanist may be the biggest ringleader of all. You’re letting a nice set of T&.A cloud your judgment.”
“You know better, boss. I’m checking out everything.”
“Hmm. I’m certain you are. LeJeune, do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to have the whole damned EPA up your ass? Because that’s what I have right now, and according to my wife, I’ve never had much ass, so it’s getting crowded down there and I’m more than a little uncomfortable. You don’t want me uncomfortable, do you?”
Luc closed his eyes for a moment, not even wanting to think about another man’s ass. “No, we wouldn’t want that.”
“Good!” Wilson disconnected, and Luc pressed the End button on his phone. What a friggin’ mess. The call had brought up a possibility Luc hadn’t even thought of, and it didn’t please him in the least. Was his boss right? Was his attraction to Maryse coloring his judgment? What if she was protecting whoever was making illegal dumps in the bayou? Then again, maybe his initial read was right, and she wasn’t involved at all.
He took another look at the locked door and sighed. No matter what, Maryse Robicheaux was up to something, and the way she shot out of the office led him to believe that she was off to do something important and personal. After all, she had taken the day off work. Glancing at his watch, he realized it had been ten minutes since Maryse had fled the office. He flipped his cell phone open again and punched some buttons.
A map of the Mudbug area filled the display, and Luc watched as a small blinking dot came into view, moving rapidly across the bayou that stretched alongside downtown. So whatever couldn’t wait had taken her into the bayou, and he’d be willing to bet everything he owned that whatever she was doing didn’t have anything to do with her job as a state botanist.
But he was about to find out.
Maryse pushed down the throttle of her bass boat and zoomed across the bayou. Even though she’d been awake for hours, there was still that tiny thought lingering in the back of her mind that she’d wake up any moment and find the whole thing had been one big dream—parts of it a nightmare.
Of course, that theory already had two strikes against it. The first being that she completely lacked the imagination to even dream something this weird, and the second being that even if she had dreamed up a haunting, the last person she would have put in the starring role was Helena. And now, against her better judgment, she was headed down the bayou to a stretch of bank within easy view of Helena Henry’s house. Not that Maryse knew where Helena hung out, exactly, but her house seemed to make the most sense. And the last thing Maryse needed today was another dose of Helena.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more avoiding Helena seemed like the best plan. Maryse spent most of her days in the bayou, and even though Helena claimed she could walk on water, and quite possibly run, she probably couldn’t keep up with a boat—not in ghostly high heels, anyway.
Of course, her cabin posed a bit of a problem. Helena had already “dropped by,” so that wasn’t safe at all. There was always the Mudbug Hotel, but